


A Quiet Christmas Eve

by RoseHarperMaxwell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Eve, Edgeplay, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Light Dom/sub, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHarperMaxwell/pseuds/RoseHarperMaxwell
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and a handful of eighth-year students are having a sleepover in the common room. Draco wakes Hermione up, but she'll need to be quiet for what he has in mind.Featuring: thrill-seeking behavior, a slightly jealous Draco, and good girl Hermione.For Dirty Festivus 2020, a gift for motherbearof3.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 54
Kudos: 509
Collections: DH, Dirty Festivus 2020





	A Quiet Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [motherbearof3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/gifts).



> Happy Dirty Festivus, motherbearof3! I hope you enjoy this small, smutty gift. 💚 Have a wonderful holiday season!
> 
> Many thanks to [dreamsofdramione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugggghead/pseuds/dreamsofdramione) for the lovely graphic, and to [TriDogMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDogMom/pseuds/TriDogMom) for organizing the exchange. 💚

“Shh, Granger.” Hermione’s eyes snapped open; she was still a light sleeper after the events of the past year. But it was only Draco, holding a finger to his lips. “It’s just me.”

The room was dark and still. Although the only sound came from the crackling fire, they weren’t alone. A handful of eighth-year students had agreed to have a sleepover in the common room on Christmas Eve. 

This first class of its kind was close-knit. No one came back to Hogwarts unless they were willing to look forward. Everyone was an adult now, and not everyone had a family to spend the holidays with. But whether they stayed at Hogwarts over break by choice or necessity, they made the most of it. Butterbeer, exploding snap, a game of spin-the-bottle that fizzled due to sheer lack of numbers—it was a laid-back Christmas Eve. 

Draco had teased her all night.

It was new, whatever it was between them. The heartfelt letter he’d sent her over the summer was the only reason she’d have ever entertained the idea. Their first kiss—during a late-night lark in the library, just to see if they could sneak in unnoticed—took them both by surprise. 

It was still so fresh that butterflies were perpetual in her stomach. She never knew when he’d tug her behind a tapestry or pull her into an empty classroom. A darkened glance from across a room could spark a flame, hot and instantaneous. Urgent hands, stolen kisses, wandering mouths—it was all novel. Every touch sent delicious jolts of electricity through her.

Whatever it was, it was secret enough that they hadn’t told anyone. But he'd risked detection by tormenting her all evening.

An idle finger lost in a curl as he sat too-close on the sofa.

A surreptitious grab of her arse by the table of drinks.

And now, a stealthy slip beneath the quilt she’d brought from her room. He’d fallen asleep in the heavy, tufted armchair next to her. It now partially obscured them from view, should anyone look. The fire cast a subtle glow over classmates asleep in various places around the room.

“Draco—”

“Shh,” he said again. “Do you want to wake everyone up?”

They hadn’t talked about telling anyone else yet. Hermione shook her head, mind drowsy.

“Then you’ll have to be quiet, won’t you?” He kissed her then, slow and languorous. The taste of butterbeer from their festive evening was still sweet on his lips. Fingers slipped beneath the hem of her pajama top, a cool contrast to her flannel-warmed skin.

She was comfortable in the firelight, and Draco’s hand felt familiar and promising. Hermione basked in the luxurious feeling of a boy pressed tight against her, one she liked. One who wanted her back. The deprivation of such simple sweetness in her earlier adolescence still stung sometimes. 

She let the hazy, pleasurable sensation drift through her body. But when his fingers crept higher, sensibility prevailed. “Let’s go to my room,” she whispered.

“No.” She felt him shake his head against her hair, pulling her back into him with the palm splayed across her middle.

Okay. Hermione could work with this, if he wanted a little adventure. She enjoyed their covert sessions as much as Draco seemed to. “Mufflia—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, voice low as he pulled her curls out of the way to press a kiss to the most sensitive spot on her neck.

Hermione shivered as he sucked, trailing a meandering path to her earlobe. He took it between his teeth with a gentle pull, and the tenderness swayed her. “Someone could hear us.”

“Not if you don’t make a sound.” Draco’s lips brushed over the places he’d kissed, breathing warm air across damp skin. “Besides...that’s sort of fun, isn’t it? A little risky.”

His fingers crested one of her breasts, and a firm thumb grazed a nipple. She bit the inside of her lip to stifle a squeak.

“Can you be quiet for me, Granger?”

Draco’s fingers found her other nipple, giving it the same delicate attention. He delivered a firmer, inequitable pluck before sliding his hand down her stomach. It came to rest at the waistband of her pajama bottoms. “Can you?”

Heat coursed through her, arousal building and evident between her thighs. She stole a glance around the low-lit room. Theo was asleep on the sofa, Neville’s feet barely visible behind it. Ernie and Susan were somewhere out of sight. It made her stomach swoop to think of fooling around with Draco, no charms to conceal or muffle them. It wasn’t something she’d considered before, but the thought was thrilling. After years of war and desperate acts of survival, smaller risks like this were so easy to say yes to. A heady rush of adrenaline without the high stakes.

It made Hermione feel reckless. A little drunk: on Christmas Eve, on the dreamlike situation, on the handsome boy behind her who wanted her. Craved her enough to take chances. 

So she nodded. She’d try her best, anyway.

“Good girl,” Draco whispered, fingers slipping beneath her pajama bottoms. The words shot straight to her lower belly, already flooded with desire. He tapped her upper thigh. “Open for me.”

The first time he’d praised her like that was a revelation. It was the most seductive thing she’d ever experienced, and he’d lavished her with it since. She breathed deep, in through her nose, tight-lipped as she parted her thighs. 

“Mm.” Draco made a soft, pleased sound as he found her already wet for him. “Merlin. I love that you’re like this. Insatiable.” His fingers took a torturous expedition. Hermione quivered with the need for targeted touch, and the focus required to stay silent. 

“Don’t tease.”

He chuckled and continued, skimming her cunt with the tips of his fingers. Then he resumed long strokes that avoided contact where she wanted it most.

“I don’t need you to get off, you know.”

She didn’t. Hermione was pretty excellent at it, actually. She could do it faster than he could, and it was still satisfying, if less...titillating.

“I know. You’ve shown me.” Her cheeks flushed as she recalled the memory: lying back on a conjured sofa, Draco's attention rapt as she fingered herself. "You and your glorious cloud of hair, all spread out like that. It was a vision." He sucked hard at her neck, and a firm pat to her clit made her jerk. "But I've watched your face both ways, and I think you come harder for me." 

She reached back for him now, but he held her close, rocking his erection against the cleft of her arse.

“Trust me, I’m ready for you,” he breathed against her ear, fingers strumming. “Wanted to touch you all night, Granger. Wanted to pull you onto my lap during that bloody game. Wanted to tell Macmillan to go fuck himself when he landed on you.”

Hermione writhed against his hand, but indignation flared at those words. “We've never made an exclusive arrangement.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe I want us to.” His fingers slipped inside of her, thumb brushing against her clit. A small mercy. “You’re my exclusive arrangement.”

The admission made her dizzy. Draco wanted her, and _only_ her.

Hermione turned in his arms, pressing his back against the rug. She shoved down her pajama bottoms, feeling him work out of his as well. And then she sat astride him, tugging the quilt high over them both.

Draco's breath ghosted across her face before he pulled her down into a searing kiss. “Gods, Granger. I need to be in you.”

She shook her head, smiling against his lips. "It’s my turn to tease."

She braced herself against his chest and slid her dripping folds along the length of him. Long strokes from base to tip, riding his cock without letting him enter her. The head of his cock dragged against her clit, and the pressure was delicious on every pass. He gripped her arse, squeezing and supporting without taking over.

Hermione kissed him again, breathless, as tension spiraled within her. Being in control of the pace meant she’d brought herself to the edge with haste.

When she broke the kiss, he gazed up at her. She expected him to be restless, impatient to fuck her. But his eyes were full of reverence.

“I love that you can get yourself off like that.” Draco looked delighted. “It’s so hot, Granger. Use my cock.”

Two more slick, gliding strokes, and she huddled over him, biting back a moan. Pulses of pleasure wracked her body. His hands slid up, stroking her back under her pajama top as she rocked against him. “So beautiful.”

When she relaxed at last, Draco flipped them before she realized what was happening. Shadows danced across his face, but they couldn’t conceal the adoration in his smile and the crinkle of his eyes.

He braced on his forearms, a loose grip pinning each of her wrists near her face. Silky hair fell across his forehead. Hermione itched to run her fingers through it, but the rush of being held in place was stronger. “Please,” he asked against her lips.

The expression on his face was mesmerizing. So different from the way he used to look at her. She nodded.

“You have to be quiet, Granger.”

Draco entered her then, so slow. A restrained, maddening pace. Their other couplings had been fast and furious; a desperate race to orgasm. This was deep and unhurried, and she savored every bit of friction. The deliberate tempo heightened every sensation. 

It was still incredibly erotic, and Hermione wasn’t ready to think about assigning any other names to it. But it didn’t feel like a casual or convenient fuck. It felt like progression. A taste of potential.

It felt really fucking good.

Draco bit his lip, closing his eyes for a moment. Her cunt gripped at the utter lust present when he blinked them open again.

Hermione had never been able to come without direct contact to her clit. Fingers, a mouth, the head of a cock as she guided herself over it. But at this angle, every deep push and lazy withdrawal delivered unfamiliar friction. It was less intentional, but building nonetheless—and almost better, somehow, for its organic development.

A single whimper escaped her.

“Hush, Granger.” Draco released a wrist, pressing fingers against her lips. His breath came ragged, heavy with exertion. “Shh.”

The faint, tangy scent of her arousal on his fingers was provocative. Hermione was unable to resist sucking them inside her mouth, curling her tongue and hollowing her cheeks.

A strangled moan nearly escaped him. “Merlin fuck.” He shuddered, hips snapping sharply before returning to his measured pace. “Sometimes I wonder just how much you’d let me do to you.”

She tried to stifle her sounds, but he was driving her to the top of a precipice again, and she wasn’t in control this time. She whined around his fingers until he withdrew them.

“I’m going to come, Draco. I’m going to come.”

He kissed her, deep and slow, swallowing her babbled whispers and involuntary moan. The thrill of potential discovery, the pleasure of this slower, intimate fuck, and the fondness in his kiss pushed her over the edge again. Hermione clenched around him, body taut with the effort of riding out waves of pleasure in silence.

The slow drag never stopped. It intensified her orgasm even more. “Fuck,” he panted. “You feel so fucking good, Hermione.”

Draco mouthed at her throat, humming his pleasure into bites of soft skin. Three more less-controlled thrusts, and then he tensed as well. A pulsing shudder wracked his body as he spilled deep inside of her. He sighed, nuzzling her neck before catching her lips again. A few more languid pumps of his hips lent the impression that he liked his come inside of her, and wanted to keep it there.

“You did so well, Granger. So quiet for me. Such a good girl.”

He’d only just slipped out of her when an amused voice carried from the sofa, distinct over the sputter of flames.

“She may be a good girl, but she’s _not_ that quiet.”

Hermione froze. Draco's head jerked at the voice, before dropping into the crook of her neck. “Jesus, Theo.”

“Yeah, who’d I just wank to?” Ernie said, somewhere out of sight. “Was that Malfoy and Granger?”

She closed her eyes. Mortification crept in, swallowing her voice. The possibility of exposure may have been more exciting than having an actual audience. But a titter of laughter escaped as she tucked the quilt snug around them. It’s not like anyone saw anything but movements under a blanket. What they heard—well, that could have been a lot.

“May I offer you a cleaning charm?”

“Shut the fuck _up_ , Theo,” Draco said, casting the wandless charm across them himself.

“Can I be your very good boy, if I do?” Theo grinned. Hermione couldn't help but join him, despite the heat in her cheeks.

Neville staggered to his feet behind the couch, cocooning himself in his blanket. “That’s it. I didn’t stay behind for you all to have a sex party in here.” A corner of his quilt trailed sadly behind as he plodded toward the dormitories.

Even Draco chuckled at that, as he helped Hermione into her pajama bottoms. “Where’s Bones?”

“Dead asleep over there"—Theo gestured to the other side of the fireplace, behind a matching armchair—"no thanks to you two.”

“Apologies. You could have said something if we disturbed your sleep.” Draco tucked Hermione into his side, and she pulled one knee up, tangling her legs with his. Resting her head in the crook of his shoulder felt natural, and she snuggled close.

“Do you see anyone keeping me warm over here? My boyfriend had other obligations this evening,” Theo said. “I may as well enjoy the entertainment left behind.”

Harry was spending Christmas at the Burrow, but he’d be back tomorrow evening. Hermione felt little sympathy for Theo despite his sulking. They all suffered through generous displays of affection when Harry was around.

Draco cast a Muffliato.

“Oh, _now_ you remember a silencing charm,” Theo grumbled, rolling to face the back of the couch. “I suppose the show’s over, then. Good night.”

Draco ignored him, stroking her arm with a steady hand. “Alright, Granger?”

She nodded. “It’s a little embarrassing. But...I enjoyed myself.”

“Mm,” he said. “I did too." His hand stilled for a moment. "Can I stay here with you?” 

“As opposed to going back to your armchair?” Hermione's fingers wandered across his chest. “No, I’m pretty sure everyone is aware now. Of...whatever this is that we’re doing.”

“I meant it, Granger. Be with me.” He pressed a drowsy kiss to her hair. “We’re good together.”

Being in a relationship with Draco at all—let alone by the winter holiday—wasn’t anything she’d ever expected. But he was right; they fit well together. His comforting distraction was exactly what she’d needed on this first Christmas without her parents. So far everything about her eighth year was better because of him.

“You should know, I have high standards for a boyfriend,” she said, tasting the word on her lips. 

“Only the poshest public shag spots for you, then.” He tilted her chin, and she kissed his smirk away. “Happy Christmas, Granger.”


End file.
